


maybe in twenty nineteen

by templeofshame



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Anxiety, Canon Compliant, Established Relationship, Hair, I Read A Letter From My Younger Self, Identity, Introspection, M/M, Manchester, Why I Changed My Emo Hair, giving the people what they want
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-27
Updated: 2018-05-27
Packaged: 2019-05-14 05:36:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14763611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/templeofshame/pseuds/templeofshame
Summary: Maybe Phil wants to change his hair. But that doesn't mean he's ready.





	maybe in twenty nineteen

**Author's Note:**

> This was me trying to reclaim the narrative of Why I Changed My Emo Hair into something that didn't feel dismissive. Of course, it also required watching it so many times it doesn't feel dismissive anymore.

Ten years ago. Phil before Dan, Phil with a whole life ahead of him and only school behind. Phil, with highly regrettable long hair.

The worst hair Phil will ever have, if he has anything to say about it. And of course he does, it’s his hair, growing out of his head, still going strong and without the receding hairline his school friends predicted. Phil’s hair has been, thus far, completely within his control. For better and worse… mostly worse. He’d made so many mistakes before he settled into the comfortable, iconic amazingphil fringe.

If he’s talking about hair of the past and present, he has to acknowledge the way… people say they want a quiff for him. And maybe Phil wants it. Or at least… not the fringe. Dan has a new look for a new phase of life, embracing the way his hair wanted to be. Would a quiff just be another trendy thing to do for the fans, another box to put himself in? Would they hate it if they actually got it? What are the odds that it would feel like who Phil is now? 

It shouldn’t matter at all; it’s just hair, he’s changed in plenty of other ways, and it’s not like he never wears his fringe pushed back around the house anyway. But some days, he looks in the mirror and feel stuck. Stagnant. This is his life, then, and now, and maybe always, if he can’t bear to change it. Maybe he’ll be trying to hide wrinkles under a fringe, trying to find something #relatable to say to the kids, until the only subscriber he has left is Dan.

He’ll change it, though. He will. Someday. Just not yet.

“Maybe in 2019.”

***

Phil doesn’t think much about the fact that Dan’s watching the video while Phil makes coffee. He’s pretty sure what Dan will say. It’s a good video, self-reflective without getting too personal, and Dan understands the glaring omission. Probably the biggest change in his life: the journey from 2008 Phil with a sometimes-cringey desperation to be loved, to 2018 Phil, with a Dan. They’d talked about it, about leaving a heart-shaped hole in the letter that some people would most likely notice, because that’s where they’re at for now.

When he makes his way back to the couch with the coffee, he doesn’t expect Dan to turn to him and say “2019? It’s January.”

It takes Phil a moment. Of course he’s acutely aware that it’s January. His birthday is coming, soon, and he has weeks of celebratory plans and a few new skincare products to make sure that’s more good than bad. But 2019… Oh. Right. The hair.

Phil runs protective fingers through his fringe. “You used to like it.” It’s an impulse, to retreat into safety and defend.

“Phil.” Dan’s expression is one of his most incredulous. “If you want me to gush about your hair, I’m sure there are Youtube compilations for that. But this…” He pauses, studying Phil’s face. “If you want to do it, why wait a year?”

“You can want something and not be ready.” Phil’s tone isn’t harsh, but he realizes as soon as the words are out that they’ll hit Dan harder than he meant to. Dan never has to be told that. “Shit, not like—” Phil reaches out, expecting Dan to turn or move away, and whacks him in the arm.

Dan isn’t turning away. He isn’t reacting to Phil’s clumsiness, or even hearing the argument Phil’s worried about. Instead, he’s studying Phil’s expression, looking for something besides a retraction of words. “Not right now, sure. A year, though?”

Phil thinks about getting into it. Maybe he owes Dan a lengthy discussion of hair-related anxieties. Dan’s no stranger to changing hair branding, and once upon a time he’d been more adamant about GHDs than Phil ever had been about obscuring his forehead. But it’s all been fine for him; he made the shift well over a year ago, and he made it look easy. He doesn’t need Phil’s excuses. “Well excuse me if I don’t want to pull an ‘ask me in five months.’” 

“It’ll happen to you, though. New Year’s Day, you’ll start getting the haircut questions.”

“Unless…” Phil hesitates.

“You could have fun with it. Troll them a bit.”

“Unless the fringe doesn’t make it to New Year’s.”

***

The tagline of the tour is “giving the people what they want.” And it’s possible that they want something different. Hairwise. From Phil. But they’ve got lots of tour promo materials, photos and t-shirts and the trailer, and all of it’s got the classic Amazingphil fringe.

They’re stood next to each to each other brushing their teeth before they rush off to another meeting, and it’s that damn fringe in the mirror. It’s not been two weeks, but Phil’s mostly tried not to think on it. Maybe he’s fine with it the way it is. But today, next to Dan there in the mirror, it feels wrong. “I can’t do it until after the tour,” he says.

Dan gives him the “context?” look. Sometimes it’s easy to forget they’re not telepathic. On this issue, though, Phil can’t shake the feeling that Dan just doesn’t get it.

“The fringe,” he says. “It’s in all the photos. I can’t just… quiff it up.”

Dan meets Phil’s eyes in the mirror, then inches his hand towards Phil’s hair, wiggling his fingers like a Disney witch. “You can,” he says, barely more than a whisper. “I can.” And he does, gently, messily, poking Phil’s forehead a bit as he’s still looking at mirror Phil.

Phil’s first impulse is to laugh. It’s a clumsy, playful touch, and that’s what he does when Dan touches him that way. But something heavier than hair is weighing on him. “No.” He moves Dan’s hand away, watches in the mirror as Dan’s smile falls. “That’s not how it works. ”

“But it does, though?” Of course Dan doesn’t get it; they can both see the exposed forehead. Staring at it, Phil doesn’t feel any better. But now Dan’s turning towards him and he has an excuse to look away. To see Dan’s face instead of his own, the loose waves they used to call “hobbit hair.” “How doesn’t it work?”

“Who am I trying to be? Who am I kidding? There’s me, and Amazingphil, and then there’s quiff guy. I don’t need another kind of faking it.”

Dan pauses, then, and cautiously leads Phil out of the bathroom. They have a couch for this sort of thing.Once they’re settled, Dan starts off slowly, unsure. “How is changing your hair… faking it? You’ve done it before.”

“Don’t remind me! But not in what, eight years? Not since I met you.” There’s something in those words that Phil didn’t put there, something that only happens when they meet the air. Something fundamentally true, though; before Dan, he did change his hair pretty often. Before Dan, maybe change didn’t feel so…

He can’t do it. There are too many unknowns. Butterflies could flap their wings and shatter worlds; what could be the consequences of different hair? At best, he wouldn’t recognize himself. And for what? To feel like an adult in some way that isn’t already covered by businesses, a lease, a bank account, a partner to share all that with? To make some fans happy when they already love him in spite of not knowing him?

Dan can see the shift happen and lets Phil have a moment. Then, “I liked the choppy bird’s nest hair. Even if I never saw it in the flesh.”

“Fleshy hair,” Phil says with an absurd shiver, before he remembers he was spiraling. Sometimes Dan can do that, can catch him in a moment that’s so easy he forgets to panic. Maybe he’s doing it on purpose this time. Either way, it’s welcome. Phil shouldn’t be like this. It’s just hair. Dan wouldn’t say that, but maybe he’s thinking it. Phil's been avoiding the comments on his video. He knows some people won’t hold back on what they think about “maybe in 2019.” But this is just Dan. “Maybe fleshy hair is the way to be worse than the way-too-long hair, or highlighter head.”

“Hey,” Dan says, his tone gentle but serious. “You don’t have to be mean to past Phil. That’s not a requirement to be a new Phil.”

“He doesn’t mind if we have a laugh.”

“What about the fringe?”

Phil tilts his head, confused. He brings it back into place across his forehead. “It’s right here.”

“When it’s gone. Will you be so…?” Dan takes a deep breath, and Phil waits. “Will you be ashamed of that past Phil?”

Phil starts to argue, but he stops himself. There’s a lot in the question, and arguing is beside the point. “Is it… a past Phil? Now?”

Dan turns and shields his face like he does when he knows there are answers on it. He knows he has thoughts he can’t hide from Phil except by hiding his expression. Because it’s not a question for Dan to answer.

“Okay,” Phil says. “It’s just hair. You wanna do something to it? Call Fabrice? Or maybe someone new. Whatever.”

Dan turns back to him, wide-eyed and not in a good way. “What? Did I… Fuck, Phil. I’m not telling you to get a haircut, and I know it’s not just hair, and I’m not trying to—”

“It is, though.” Phil says it forcefully. “It’s just hair. My hair grows fast. We’re going on tour, we have better things to worry about than my fringe. So goodbye past Phil.”

“Phil.”

“What?”

Dan takes a long moment to respond. A long moment Phil has to sit with, breath in and out. He’s settling somewhere when Dan speaks again. “You’re too hard on yourself. You saw how I was before the rebrand. And every time I’ve said something and then backtracked. It doesn’t happen all at once.”

“What, you want me to get a haircut and then backtrack?” Phil hates that there’s still anger in his voice, that he’d lash out at Dan even a little about something as stupid as this. And maybe that’s him being hard on himself again. Dan is sometimes right about these things. Phil stands and starts towards the bathroom.

“Phil?” Dan asks as he watched him go.

“So I ease into it,” Phil says, and when he comes out, his hair is pushed into a messy quiff and the edge to his tone is gone.

***

He’s been wearing the quiff around the flat a lot. He’s tried a few variations. It’s been fine. Around the flat, it doesn’t count. Today, though, they’re going to Manchester. Even if they weren’t pretty much guaranteed to be spotted, they’re filming some scenes for a “giving the people what they want” video. So he heads back to the mirror to achieve a splingeless fringe. 

For once, Dan’s ready before Phil. Phil can hear his footsteps approaching, then stopping, so he’s not surprised to see Dan’s face join his in the mirror. “Phil? Ready?”

“No.” Isn’t it obvious? He’s still in quiff mode. “I have to do my fringe,” he says.

Dan shrugs the kind of shrug that isn’t casual, but it’s trying to be. “Do you? It’s Day in the Life style, you can keep it casual."

Phil gives him a look. “Casual? Really, Dan? With our fans?” 

“We get spotted, show up in someone’s selfie on Twitter, maybe drop a selfie of your own, and by the time the video comes out, it’ll feel normal.”

“It’s not New Year’s.”

“Nowhere near. But it’s a change of scenery. Manchester… now with quiff. Like going back to the future. And that’s a great fucking movie.”

Phil looks back in the mirror. He’s been standing there for a while now, looking at the quiff that still isn’t quite normal, but stalling on the switch back to fringe. He studies himself now. He can go out, go to Manchester, like this. He feels a bubble of anxiety rising, but excitement too. They can go back, film themselves in familiar places, but with curls and a quiff. And a new kind of confidence. Phil sees Dan recognize it in the mirror, before they both turn toward the door.

“You look good. Ian’ll be jealous of your hairline.” Dan grabs Phil’s hand, squeezes, then drops it to slip on his backpack. He pokes Phil’s toward him with a foot.

“They underestimated me. Back in the day.” 

“I can’t blame them. We always do.”

He could taunt Dan, but he just smiles. Backpack on, out the door, he doesn’t need to think about his hair. Except… maybe they should call that non-Fabrice hairdresser. Maybe he’s ready.

**Author's Note:**

> i live on [tumblr](), say hi.


End file.
